


Rainy Days Never Prepared Him For This

by allyasavedtheday



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, POV Alternating, cuddle buddies, it rains a lot, quirky umbrellas, you better get used to seeing that tag on all my fics js
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-06 18:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1868376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyasavedtheday/pseuds/allyasavedtheday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles left Beacon Hills for college he totally didn’t sign up for getting drenched every day when making his journeys from his apartment to the bus to campus and back again as soon as he moved out of the dorms. And yet, that’s his life and has been for the past four years. </p><p>But there is <em>one</em> upside.</p><p>Angry Umbrella Guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rainy Days Never Prepared Him For This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [warmth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmth/gifts).



> The origin for this story, like most of my fics, is: me and Hela were talking about sterek and it got out of hand. The original post can be found [ here.](http://allyasavedtheday.tumblr.com/post/90086491132/i-really-like-the-thought-of-a-human-au-where-stiles)  
> So this is her lil present for our friendaversary!!
> 
> Also there's an exorbitant amount of rain and water related analogies in this fic and i'm not even sorry bc i laughed every time
> 
> (As per usual, characters don't belong to me!)

When Stiles left Beacon Hills for college he totally didn’t sign up for getting drenched every day when making his journeys from his apartment to the bus to campus and back again as soon as he moved out of the dorms.

And yet, that’s his life and has been for the past four years. The simple solution would be to drive to campus every day except the parking lot is tiny and pretty much only serves a fifth of the student body so Roscoe’s relegated to weekend and late-night drives only – he learned his lesson as a sophomore when he spent so much time looking for a parking spot he ended up missing his first class on more than one occasion.

But there is  _one_  upside.

Angry Umbrella Guy.

Angry Umbrella Guy lives in the apartment building next to Stiles – and the apartment directly across from Stiles but he’s too afraid to mention that in case the dude thinks he’s a stalker or something – and always comes home on the same bus as Stiles.

And since Stiles never has the presence of mind to bring an umbrella with him Angry Umbrella Guy begrudgingly walks with him and lets Stiles take refuge under his plastic umbrella that has little cartoon wolves on it while they make the trip from the bus stop to the apartment block.

The first time it happened Stiles had gotten soaked through three seconds after he stepped out from underneath the bus shelter. He walked quickly with his head down and his hands stuffed in his pockets, the hood of his hoodie pathetically attempting to keep his hair dry until suddenly the rain wasn’t falling on him anymore.

He’d looked up and met the stormy – he’d started applying weather analogies to Angry Umbrella Guy’s appearance a long time ago – eyes of an Adonis in a business suit, carefully holding his quirky umbrella over both their heads and keeping his face stoic. Needless to say, Stiles tripped over nothing in his shock and Angry Umbrella Guy caught his arm with an irritated huff.

Stiles was…enamoured, to say the least.

Ever since Angry Umbrella Guy walks him home if it’s raining. However they don’t sit together on the bus, nor does he walk with Stiles if it’s a rare overcast or, dare he say it, sunny day.

Stiles doesn’t mind though because even so, he’s gleaned quite a few things about Angry Umbrella Guy in their months together:

His sister got him the umbrella and that’s the only reason he uses it. (A family man - more like a man after Stiles’ own heart.)

He gets really annoyed when Stiles doesn’t have an umbrella or a hood and tells him so every time they see each other – but he still keeps Stiles dry anyway.

He recognised Stiles from coming out of his apartment building and that’s why he helped him out the first day. Though Stiles still doesn’t know if he’s aware they can see into each other’s apartments from their living room windows.

He works for a law firm and that’s why he wears suits all the time – and to fulfil Stiles’ fantasies  _obviously_.

Angry Umbrella Guy’s name is Derek which is a recent discovery that Stiles only made because he kept needling him for an answer. Stiles still calls him Angry Umbrella Guy anyway because it bugs the crap out of him.

 

It’s a day that ends in ‘y’ so naturally, it’s raining. Stiles had dozed off on the bus home so he didn’t catch whether Derek got on or not and turning around in his seat to look for him would be too obvious. He shuffles off the bus, preparing himself to be saturated in a matter of seconds but after a moment he hears a familiar, long-suffering sigh and his hair is being kept blessedly dry.

“Don’t you ever bring an umbrella?” Derek huffs, falling into stride with him and Stiles has to bite the inside of his cheek not to smile. They’ve had this conversation approximately one-hundred-and-forty-six times.

“Again, I never asked for your charming escort services,” Stiles retorts sardonically, sending a catty grin his way. “I can walk home on my own just fine.”

“And catch hypothermia,” Derek mutters.

Stiles gasps exaggeratedly, fluttering a hand to his chest. “Why Derek, do you  _care?”_  he asks in mock incredulity, snickering until Derek shoves him out from underneath the umbrella.

“I take it back! I’m sorry!” Stiles cries, latching onto Derek’s arm to return to the sanctuary of the umbrella.

“You’re such an idiot,” Derek tells him, rolling his eyes.

“And yet here you are, making sure this idiot doesn’t get sick,” Stiles says gleefully.

“I must be an idiot too then,” Derek grumbles, speeding up and forcing Stiles to increase his stride.

“Slow down, would you,” he complains.

“The ends of my pants are getting wet,” Derek protests, looking adorably put-out.

“That happens every day, what else is new?” Stiles replies blithely.

Derek shoots him a glare before looking ahead of them again. “Didn’t you check the weather report today? There’s a storm coming in and I’d rather not be outside when it hits.”

Stiles scoffs, waving a hand dismissively. “Our apartment buildings are literally across the street, I’m pretty sure we’ll make it in time.”

As if the universe is conspiring against him, there’s a loud roll of thunder just as Stiles finishes his sentence and Derek gives him a look that manages to look both resigned and triumphant.

Stiles makes an executive decision and grabs onto the umbrella right above Derek’s hand because Derek has a tendency to do that awkward jog thing pedestrians do when crossing busy roads. It means Stiles almost always gets wet unless he makes sure they match each other’s pace.

Once they’re safely on the other side of the road Derek walks him all the way up to the door of his apartment building – an adorable little idiosyncrasy he’s had since day one.

“Thanks,” Stiles says gratefully because tease Derek though he might, he really appreciates getting home mostly dry every day.

“Don’t worry about it,” Derek says gruffly – he always gets awkward when Stiles goes all sincere. He gives Stiles a stiff nod then before turning on his heel and hurrying over to his own building.

*

Later that night Stiles is huddled up on his couch with his blanket wrapped around him as he tries to get through his paper for his Psych class and block out the sounds of the rain pelting off his window and thunder rumbling overhead. He doesn’t particularly mind storms, it’s just that they’re kind of creepy when you’re home alone, not to mention Stiles watched way too many horror movies as a kid and he knows all about pathetic fallacy, okay.

Which is why, when there’s a knock at his window - on the fucking third floor – he jumps about a foot in the air. He sets down his laptop and wraps the blanket more securely around himself as he stands up and cautiously edges his way to the window. He picks up the lamp on his side table on the way because whoever’s on his fire escape is probably a murderer, statistically and all that.

There’s another, angry-sounding knock and Stiles shuffles forward until he’s more or less standing in front of his window and squints through the distortion of the raindrops to see… _Derek?_

Stiles hastily drops the lamp and lunges forward to open the window. “What the fuck?” he exclaims as soon as Derek’s through the window – he’s looks like a drowned cat.

“Power’s out in my building,” he replies absently, shaking off a few stray drops of water.

“So turn on a flashlight? Light a candle!” Stiles cries densely. “I’m pretty sure my heart stopped beating when you knocked on the window.”

“I don’t  _have_  any flashlights,” Derek grits out but there’s an uncomfortable set in his shoulders and suddenly Stiles remembers some throwaway comment Derek made once. During one of Stiles’ endeavours to get to know his Angry Umbrella Guy – and scope out their compatibility, let’s be real - he’d asked Derek what his ideal date was. When he didn’t answer and Stiles prompted with a, “Candlelit dinner for two?” Derek had muttered that he didn’t like open flames. It could’ve been an answer just to get Stiles to shut up but something about the way he said made it seem like it probably wasn’t.

No wonder Derek isn’t prepared for a blackout.

Stiles sighs and manoeuvres around Derek to shut the window before ushering him further into the room. “Why don’t you take a shower before the power goes out here too?” he suggests. “I can get you a towel and something to change into.”

Derek gives him a look of guarded hopefulness and Stiles feels his chest tighten so he rolls his eyes and lightens the mood. “It’s the least I can do after your daily feats of heroism walking me home.”

Derek rolls his eyes right back but allows Stiles to lead him to the bathroom. Stiles leaves him his favourite fluffy towel – because Lydia always says he’s a terrible host and Lydia’s  _wrong_  – and a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

Once he hears the water turn on he returns to the living room and paces back in forth in front of the coffee table in a futile attempt to calm down. Derek’s in his shower.  _Naked_.

He’s so unprepared for this.

He saves his paper and shuts his laptop down, deciding he should probably make coffee or something before the power  _does_  go out – the lights have been flickering ominously all night, it hasn’t been helping the pathetic fallacy situation. He bumbles around in the kitchen for a while; makes sure the coffee pot’s full and roots around for the two flashlights he  _knows_  he has somewhere.

When he hears the water shut off he goes back into the living room, picking up the lamp he’d dropped earlier before throwing himself on the couch. Derek comes out while he’s fixing his blanket and Stiles’ brain loses all functionality.

Derek’s not actually that much bigger than him so the clothes fit, the t-shirt Stiles gave him is just… _tight_ , stretching across his chest and accentuating his arms where it hangs mostly loose on Stiles.

This isn’t gonna help his active imagination  _at all_.

Derek’s starting to look uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot and Stiles realises he should probably close his mouth.

“Um so, have a seat!” Stiles pats the other side of the couch and tries to give Derek an encouraging smile. “Are you warm enough?”

“I’m fine,” Derek says, sitting down on the edge of couch cushion. “Thanks,” he adds as an afterthought.

“No problemo,” Stiles replies and Jesus Christ did he just shoot finger guns at Derek? Why is he even allowed outside?

“So what do you wanna do?” he asks, trying to salvage the moment.

“I don’t kn-“

Derek stops talking when there’s a flicker and the lights go off for real. Stiles heaves a sigh, well that didn’t last long. Stiles fishes his phone out of his hoodie pocket and turns on the light, shining it on the coffee table to find the flashlights he’d left there earlier.

He leaves his phone on the table with the light still on and hands one of the flashlights to Derek. Derek takes it wordlessly; flicking the switch and watching Stiles scramble off the couch to get his laptop.

“What are you doing?” Derek asks hesitantly.

“I don’t have any candles either,” Stiles lies. He thinks Derek can tell but there’s a grateful little smile on his face that makes Stiles think that lie is allowed. “And I have a full battery and library of movies. We might as well do something to pass the time.”

Derek nods, startling when Stiles puts the laptop on his lap. “You hold that,” Stiles instructs. “There’s a tub of ice-cream in my freezer that’ll definitely melt if we don’t eat it. You want a drink or something?”

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” Derek answers, an unreadable expression on his face.

Stiles returns a few minutes later with a tub of chocolate fudge brownie ice-cream, two spoons and two mugs of coffee. Derek thanks him when he hands him the coffee, shining the flashlight on the couch so Stiles can see where he’s trying to sit. Which- yeah Stiles didn’t really think their seating arrangements through.

He has to sit pressed right up against Derek, his legs tucked up underneath him, so they can both see the laptop and access the ice-cream and while _he_  has no problem getting up close and personal with his Angry Umbrella Guy, he feels like Derek might.

Derek doesn’t say anything though, or stiffen when Stiles settles in next to him. Stiles busies himself setting up a movie while the initial awkwardness dissipates.

It’s weirdly intimate. He and Derek don’t actually spend prolonged amounts of time together. All their interactions are limited to walking home from the bus stop which takes approximately three minutes.

But this; sitting together in the dark, curled up on the couch, demolishing a tub of ice-cream and watching a movie, it’s like they skipped about ten levels of friendship and went straight for no boundaries. Stiles kind of likes it though – Stiles has also been harbouring a crush on Derek since he met him so he’s probably biased.

But Derek isn’t complaining. In fact, if Stiles isn’t mistaken, Derek’s leaning into him – just a little bit, just enough to be noticeable but it makes Stiles’ heart thump heavily in his chest.

“That was a good movie,” Derek murmurs drowsily when the credits start to roll.

“Mm,” Stiles agrees tiredly. “Wanna watch another?” Stiles doesn’t want to watch another. Stiles wants to lie down with Derek and wrap himself up in his arms and sleep for a week. But he’s afraid Derek will leave or something if Stiles turns off the laptop – even though the rain is getting worse.

“Sure,” Derek yawns, stretching lazily. The blanket’s covering him – Stiles doesn’t even  _know_ when they started sharing the blanket – but Stiles can tell his t-shirt rides up a bit and wow he really needs to stop thinking about these things when Derek is literally pressed right up against him.

He tries to tune Derek out and focus on queuing up another movie but he can feel his limbs getting heavy and his eyelids drifting shut every few seconds. He should get up right now, leave Derek with the blanket on the couch, maybe grab him a pillow, and then retreat to his own bed but he’s so _comfy_.  His head’s starting to loll to the side and he’s dangerously close to falling asleep on Derek’s shoulder but he’s just- he’ll care in the morning…

 

Stiles wakes up half feeling insanely comfortable-half feeling like he slept in the most awkward position possible. He sighs which turns into a yawn and cracks an eye open, confused when he sees he’s in his living room. He forces his other eye open and suddenly last night comes flooding back.

His head is tucked in against the curve of Derek’s shoulder with Derek’s cheek resting on top of his head and their arms are tangled together complicatedly. A quick glance around the room shows that his laptop is sitting safely on the coffee table but he definitely doesn’t remember putting it there. Which means Derek must have. Which means Derek made the conscious decision to stay on the couch with Stiles even after Stiles had fallen asleep. Wow he needs a minute to let that sink in.

He doesn’t get a minute though because Derek starts snuffling and then he’s stretching and sitting up, blinking blearily.

“Morning.” Stiles says lightly when Derek’s eyes land on him.

Derek’s expression is unreadable but his lips eventually turn up into something like a smile. “Morning.”

“It looks like the storm’s past,” Stiles observes, nodding to where it’s lightly drizzling outside.

“Yeah the power’s probably back,” Derek says gruffly. “I should get going.”

“Oh. Right.” Stiles stands, unsure whether to lead Derek to the door or the window. Derek smirks at the look of dismay on Stiles’ face and starts for the window. Okay then.

Derek pauses halfway through the window, sitting on the ledge. “Thanks for letting me stay,” he says quietly.

“Thank for keeping me company,” Stiles shrugs.

Derek’s smile is brief but it’s there, even as he climbs fully out the window and turns around to close it behind him.

It’s all Stiles thinks about for the rest of the day.

*

In the next few weeks things change a lot between them. It’s like the night of the blackout opened some sort of floodgate between them and they become…friends. Derek starts walking him home every day, not just when it’s raining. And he sits with Stiles on the bus now. The first time it happened had been hilarious – Stiles was daydreaming, staring out the window until Derek marched up to his seat, very pointedly picked up Stiles’ backpack from the empty chair next to him and sat down, shoving the backpack into Stiles’ arms and saying, “Someone is gonna take this if you keep staring out that window.”

“Nothing in it to take,” Stiles had said with an easy smile. “But you should probably sit here anyway, just in case,” he added, feeling borderline euphoric. Derek had scowled but he didn’t move.

They spend a lot of their time on their fire escapes now too – when they can because it’s not pouring, at least. They sit cross-legged, facing each other and eating their dinner while they talk about their day. Or sometimes late at night, if both their lights are still on, they’ll climb outside and talk until they feel ready to fall asleep.

It’s nice. Stiles has needed someone like Derek to come along that he can talk to. He still Skypes Scott to a level that definitely surpasses co-dependency but it’s not the same, he misses his best friend like crazy. He has friends in his classes but they don’t really go past acquaintances. All his actual friends are scattered across the country in whatever colleges or grad schools they chose or already back in Beacon Hills and Stiles pretty much spends the whole year counting down the days until he can see them again.

But Derek makes it easier, he doesn’t make Stiles feel so alone. Stiles thinks that might work both ways because he’s never seen anyone else over at Derek’s apartment. It explains why Derek even bothered helping him with his umbrella in the first place.

And it turns out they actually have a lot to talk about. They agree on a lot of things but Stiles usually disagrees on purpose just to piss Derek off because he delightedly discovered Derek is actually hilarious when he’s annoyed. Derek is also extremely adept at video games – a fact that both charms and infuriates Stiles – and they can end up playing for hours on end if they’re feeling particularly competitive.

They start leaving their windows unlocked too, which is probably a stupid idea but Stiles likes being able to go over to Derek’s whenever he wants and sue him, he likes coming home from work on the weekends and seeing Derek already on his couch in sweats and reading glasses like he  _belongs._

He thinks things might have gone just a bit too far when he comes home one Monday – sadly without Derek to walk with him – and finds Derek passed out in his bed.

All logic tells Stiles to wake Derek up, or even mess around on his Xbox until Derek wakes up of his own accord but he looks so  _cuddly_  and Stiles has had the longest day, he really doesn’t think Derek will mind if he catches some shuteye next to him.

Stiles loves his bed - splurging on a memory foam mattress was the smartest idea he’s ever had – but there really hasn’t been a moment as blissful as lying down next to Derek. He makes sure they’re not touching, just close, but Derek must sense him or something because he rolls over, slinging an arm across Stiles’ middle and tucking his face into the crook of Stiles’ neck.

Stiles lies very still, afraid the slightest movement is going to shatter this moment but Derek doesn’t move so Stiles tentatively rests his arm on top of Derek’s and closes his eyes.

When he wakes up Derek’s eyes are open and staring at him.

“Hey,” Stiles mumbles – he’d be more awkward if he was actually awake.

“Hey,” Derek replies quietly. His arm isn’t around Stiles anymore but he hasn’t moved out of Stiles’ space either.

“Everything okay?” Stiles asks timidly – it hadn’t really struck him before  _why_  Derek was in his bed but there’s bound to be a reason.

Derek looks down, a furrow appearing between his brows, and Stiles knows there’s something wrong.

“Hey,” Stiles says again, nudging Derek’s ribs lightly with his elbow and pushing himself up a bit to sit against the pillows.

“It’s the anniversary of the fire,” Derek answers eventually, so quietly Stiles isn’t actually sure he hears him correctly the first time.

“What fire?” Stiles prompts gently though he can kind of guess – it certainly explains the candle thing.

“The one that burned my house down,” Derek mumbles, eyeing Stiles’ shoulder as if he wants to curl into him like he did when he was sleeping.

“Your family?” Stiles asks softly and winces when Derek shakes his head. He doesn’t hesitate in pulling Derek close then. Derek sighs in relief as soon as his head hits Stiles’ chest and Stiles smiles sadly.

“My two sisters are still alive,” Derek whispers against his shirt. “We visit each other a lot. I just couldn’t go into work today,” he adds.

“That’s okay,” he replies soothingly. He’s trying not to think about what it means that Derek went to  _him_  when he needed someone but that’s not what’s most important right now; Derek is. “You wanna stay like this for a while?” he asks but it’s really not a question since he has no intention of letting Derek go any time soon.

“Yeah,” Derek breathes, his fingers spasming where they’re clutched in the front of Stiles’ t-shirt.

Stiles shifts around a bit, making sure he gets both arms around Derek and pulls the blanket up to cover them. They stay like that for the longest time and with every passing moment all Stiles can think about is how sacred this is, how important it is that Derek went to him and how Stiles has basically fallen head over heels for Angry Umbrella Guy who’s not so angry anymore.

Eventually Stiles’ stomach starts rumbling and the mood is totally ruined but Derek only huffs a laugh.

“Wanna order take-out?” he suggests, sitting up and smirking at Stiles.

Stiles is loath to take his hands off Derek but he begrudgingly lets them slip away and digs in his pocket for his phone. “Sure. Pizza?”

Derek nods, climbing off the bed and wandering out of the room.

Stiles doesn’t know what it means that Derek trusts him with his pizza order or that Stiles even knows his pizza order in the first place but it gives him a weird swooping feeling in the pit of his stomach.

They end up sacked out on the couch with a Meat Lover’s, watching some stupid movie that Stiles only puts on so he can make a running commentary that’ll make Derek smile. The amazing thing is that it works. Derek  _smiles_ , he even laughs a couple of times and he starts to lose the dejected set of his shoulders about halfway through.

It’s when Derek’s about to leave that he takes Stiles completely by surprise by pulling him into a warm hug. “Thank you,” he says softly, but earnestly. “I needed that today.”

“Thanks for coming to me rather than locking yourself up all day and not letting anyone in,” Stiles replies lightly.

Derek pulls back, a confused look on his face.

“My mom died when I was eight,” Stiles explains, ducking his head. “I’m still not very good at the whole sharing my grief thing.”

“Me either,” Derek admits. When Stiles looks up he has a hesitant smile on his face.

Stiles smiles back, keeps his hand on Derek’s shoulder until he crouches down to climb out the window. When Derek gets back to his own apartment he waves once, waits for Stiles to wave back and then shuts his blind.

*

The cuddling thing…well, it actually becomes a thing. Not really on purpose. But if they’re watching a movie or one of the TV shows they always watch together, more often than not, they end up huddled together.

Sometimes they take naps too and Stiles really didn’t realise how touch starved he was until he was actually allowed to invade Derek’s space. Getting to actually lie down with Derek and take a nap or even just have someone hold him for a while is one of the most comforting feelings in the world.

Plus, Derek’s bed is amazing, okay? Stiles practically falls asleep the minute his head hits the pillow whenever he sneaks into Derek’s place and it’s like all his Christmases have come at once when he wakes up with Derek wound around him.

Then again, the days where he manages to stay awake just long enough for Derek to actually get home and find him there so Stiles can open his arms sleepily and grin when Derek practically bounds across the room to climb into bed with him and nap are pretty damn great too. It’s basically PG friends with benefits but Stiles doesn’t even care because it’s the most satisfying, comforting thing that’s happened to him in forever.

*

Derek had gotten used to Stiles. He’d gotten  _far_  too used to Stiles honestly.

Stiles used to drive him crazy but there was always something about him that kept making Derek want to walk him home. And then they became friends and Stiles started filling up all these gaps in Derek’s life. And now Derek really likes having him there.

He likes Stiles barging in through his window every other day and that he can do the same to Stiles. He likes their late night conversations on the fire escape and, god help him, he likes sleeping with Stiles. As someone who’s never been good at seeking out the comfort he needs, he likes how easy it is for Stiles to lean into him or lie down with him.

And it’s going surprisingly well too. Derek’s never had a friend that’s lasted this long that wasn’t one of his sisters.

That is, until, Stiles stops coming over.

Derek knows it’s stupid. He knows Stiles is just probably busy but he doesn’t get the bus home once with Derek all week and the lights don’t go on in his apartment until about eleven o’clock every night and they’re always shut off less than fifteen minutes later.

Derek has a brief, panicky thought that Stiles has met someone but he tells himself to calm down. It’s just weird not seeing Stiles every day or taking a nap with him or talking to him or generally just spending his days alone again.

Derek makes a decision on Friday night. At around 10pm he climbs across their fire escapes and finds Stiles’ window open – a good sign, honestly – and decides he’ll wait till Stiles gets home to ask what’s wrong.

He waits about an hour before he hears the key turn in the lock and Stiles is stumbling in; with a bleary expression and bags under his eyes.

He stops dead when he sees Derek. “Hey,” he says in surprise.

“Hey,” Derek replies timidly. “How’ve you been?” he asks, feeling awkward. Stiles is basically swaying on his feet, he probably doesn’t even want to be dealing with Derek’s paranoia right now.

Miraculously though, Stiles’ face softens. “Been run off my feet with my dissertation, man,” Stiles sighs. “My deadline was today. That’s why I haven’t been around much this week.”

 _Of course_. Derek remembers Stiles talking about his dissertation a lot, telling him what it was about, what parts of the research were difficult and which parts were easy, he just never realised the deadline was  _this week_.

“Is everything okay?” Stiles asks when Derek doesn’t say anything for a few moments.

“Yeah,” Derek replies stiltedly. “I was just, um, do you want to- I thought we could maybe-“ God, he’s so awful at this, why can’t he ever just ask for what he wants?

Stiles smiles though and jumps Derek with surprising speed given he looks dead on his feet.

“I was feeling deprived of your hugs, man,” Stiles tells him, voice muffled by Derek’s shoulder.

Derek thinks it should probably feel weird that Stiles is straddling his hips, hugging him tightly, because he’s pretty sure friends don’t hug like this but more than anything else, he just feels relieved.

After a minute though, Stiles pulls back. “At the risk of putting my foot in my mouth, can we take this to the bedroom? Because seriously dude, I’ve been having fantasies about my bed all day and I really need to sleep.”

Derek huffs a laugh but gently pushes Stiles off him so they can stand up, “Come on.”

When they get to the bedroom, Stiles kicks off his shoes and drops his hoodie unceremoniously before crawling into his bed and burying his face in his pillow. Derek looks at him for a minute, a fierce yearning making his chest feel tight. What he would give to be able to do this with Stiles all the time and not cross some boundary.

Eventually he climbs into bed too because Stiles will roll over and catch him staring if he doesn’t move soon.

He tries to keep in his contented sigh when Stiles settles his back against his chest but he really can’t help it. Stiles drags Derek’s arm around him then before settling his own arm over it. He pats Derek’s hand once and mumbles, “G’night,” leaving him to pull the comforter over the two of them.

Then Derek simply presses his forehead into the nape of Stiles’ neck and lets Stiles’ heavy breathing wash over him.

It kind of scares him just how much he missed this and how much he relies on this to get him through the day. It’s becoming way too important, way too fast.

At least Stiles seems to be in the same boat.

*

The following week they’re walking home from the bus, the rain is borderline torrential but Stiles finds he doesn’t really mind it so much anymore.

“Did I ever tell you how much I like your umbrella?” Stiles wonders aloud, swinging his arms as he strolls alongside Derek.

“Yes,” Derek answers. “Many times. In fact, on one memorable occasion I think you even thanked Jesus for it.”

Stiles throws him a sidelong glance and sees Derek’s got that proud look on his face that he makes whenever he makes fun of Stiles.

“Shut up,” Stiles mutters, shoulder-checking him. “I meant did I ever tell you how much I like the actual umbrella? As in, I think the little wolves are really cute.”

“No,” Derek replies slowly, clearing his throat. When Stiles looks over his ears are pink. “But thanks, I guess. Laura’ll appreciate that.”

“I’m sure she will,” Stiles replies amusedly.

“Y’know I don’t really mind walking you home,” Derek admits sheepishly a moment later.

Stiles focuses very hard on  _not_  reacting to that but it’s an honest to god test to his control. “I should hope not, seeing as you spend seventy-five percent of your day with me.”

“No, I mean  _before_ ,” Derek corrects, looking embarrassed. “…I never minded walking you home.”

“Oh,” Stiles blinks, feeling a warmth spreading through him. God, Derek’s gonna be the death of him. “Thanks,” he adds, his lips tugging up in a smile.

It’d be just like Stiles to slip in a puddle at that exact moment.

It would also be exactly like Derek to be a fucking chivalrous knight in shining armour and catch his hand so he doesn’t fall.

“How the hell have you lived on your own for almost five years and not ended up dead?” Derek muses.

“I’m a fully functioning adult,” Stiles informs haughtily.

Derek hums like he doesn’t believe him and Stiles suddenly realises they’re still holding hands. Well, he’s definitely not gonna be the one to let go first. Derek was the one to grab his hand in the first place, he should be the one to decide when they let go.

Except- Derek doesn’t let go. He holds Stiles’ hand all the way home like he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, as if they do it all the time.

And just- Stiles can’t even try to process that, okay, that’s too much for his brain to deal with.

“I’ll come over after I get off the phone with Cora?” Derek says like a question – _as if_ it’s even a question – when they arrive at the door to Stiles’ apartment building.

“Sure,” Stiles replies easily, squeezing Derek’s hand before he can think better of it. Derek’s eyes widen before snapping down to their joined hands. He looks up at Stiles again with an unreadable expression that makes him lose his breath a little.

Derek smiles and pulls his hand back, letting his fingers tangle with Stiles’ for just a second before he starts walking away.

Yup. Definitely gonna be the death of him.

*

Scott comes to visit a few weeks later, Stiles is basically walking on cloud nine from the moment he hears the news.

He’s lounging on the couch with Derek, waiting until he has to pick Scott up from the airport – Derek had pulled him down onto the couch and wrapped around him like a koala to get Stiles to stop freaking out about cleaning his apartment as if Scott will even notice if the place is messy – when his front door opens.

“Surprise!!” Scott yells, bursting through the door before freezing and raising his eyebrows at the way Stiles is sprawled out on top of Derek.

Stiles doesn’t give him time to ask questions though because he pushes himself off Derek and bolts across the room to pull Scott into a ferocious hug, laughing and feeling a little bit teary-eyed when Scott hugs back.

“I missed you so fucking much!” Stiles declares and Scott squeezes him tighter. “I thought you weren’t getting in ‘til tonight?”

“Got an earlier flight, I wanted to surprise you,” he answers, moving back with an adorable grin. “Though it looks like you’re the one with a surprise for  _me?”_ He nods his head towards Derek and Stiles follows his gaze before catching his meaning.

“Naw dude, that’s just Derek,” Stiles says, waving a hand.

Scott’s eyes bug out comically wide, “Derek.  _That’s_  Derek? The one you told me about? With the umbrella?”

“Yes,” Stiles laughs.

“So nice after all these months of friendship I’m still, “the guy with the umbrella”,” Derek muses, giving Stiles a wry grin.

“Shut up,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes and dragging Scott towards the couch. “You know I only ever say nice things about you. Tell him, Scotty.”

“The nicest,” Scott nods solemnly. God Stiles missed him.

Derek huffs a laugh, shaking his head in that adorable little way that makes Stiles’ heart flutter. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m gonna go; let you two catch up for a while.”

“Dude, you don’t have to leave,” Stiles protests.

“We can hang out tomorrow,” Derek promises. “You two need best friend time.”

Stiles chews on his lip for a second before hopping up off the couch and pulling Derek into a hug. “Have dinner with us tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure,” Derek agrees, squeezing Stiles’ arms gently as he pulls away and giving Scott a wave before he ducks out the window.

Stiles sighs wistfully before turning back to Scott. Scott- who looks completely baffled to be honest.

“What?”

“ _Dude,”_  Scott exclaims in disbelief. “Did you like, get married and not tell me?!”

“What? No!” Stiles says, scrunching up his face in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Derek!” Scott cries like it’s obvious.

“What about us?” Stiles hedges.

“The fact that you’re  _clearly_  in a relationship,” Scott practically screams.

Stiles gets a longing look on his face – he knows he does, he’s familiar with the sensation of it by now. “Naw dude, it’s not like that,” he replies softly.

Scott’s face says that it so, totally _is_.

“It isn’t,” Stiles insists.

“Then what was with the cuddling when I came in earlier?” Scott questions.

“That’s just…a thing we do sometimes.”

“Platonic cuddling,” Scott deadpans.

“Yes,” Stiles sniffs. “You wouldn’t know about it since you and Allison have never been platonic.”

“You just compared you and him to me and Allison oh dude, you totally love him,” Scott says fondly.

“No I don’t!” Stiles grouses like a five year old.

“And he loves you back,” Scott continues.

“No he doesn’t!”

“I’ll prove it to you,” Scott decides, picking up his suitcase and heading for the spare room.

“Scott!” Stiles yells. “What does that mean? I don’t like the sound of that.  _Scott!”_

“I’m unpacking,” he calls over his shoulder.

*

The whole week Scott’s there Stiles can just  _tell_  he’s planning something. He doesn’t say anything in front of Derek – because he’s too good of a friend to do that – but Stiles can feel him watching them. Like a  _hawk_.

Because sometimes Stiles can get caught up in talking to Derek, smiling until his cheeks hurt, and when he looks over at Scott he just has this knowing look on his face. Or sometimes he finds himself leaning into Derek – it’s classical conditioning! He can’t help it – and when Scott catches his eye, he makes a heart with his hands and gives Stiles an indulgent look like a proud mother.

It finally comes to a head on Saturday evening; Derek had gotten called into the office so Scott and Stiles have been left to their own devices all day. But Derek promised he’d come over after he ate something and took a shower.

Right now, Scott’s just after pushing Stiles down by his shoulders to sit on the couch and practically skipped back to the centre of the room. He’s got Stiles’ laptop balanced on one of the stools from the breakfast bar in the kitchen and he opens the lid with a flourish.

On the screen it says, “Why Stiles and Derek are in Love with Each Other, a PowerPoint presentation by Scott McCall.”

“ _Scott!”_  Stiles exclaims in disbelief.

“No talking until the presentation is complete,” Scott says in a weird, commanding teacher voice.

“Now, reason number one,” Scott says, clicking the next slide. “They look at each other like they’re in a Disney movie.”

“We do n-“ Scott pins him with a look and Stiles quietens down, pouting. But then he actually takes a look at the screen. Scott’s been taking pictures of them all week, without them even noticing. Neither of them are ever looking at the camera; always at each other. And just- okay Stiles pretty much guessed he looked at Derek with heart in his eyes, he just never thought Derek…did the same thing.

And yet there are pictures, ones where Stiles isn’t even looking at Derek, and Derek’s staring at him like he hung the moon.

When he eventually drags his eyes away from the screen Scott beams at him.

“Reason number two,” Scott continues. “They sleep together. Literally. That  _has_  to be a prelude to sex.”

“Dude!” Stiles laughs.

“Reason number 3,” Scott talks over him, trying not to grin. “They basically act like a couple anyway, they might as well get all the benefits.”

“We do not,” Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Ah see the sub points on this slide, listing your couply behaviour?” Scott points to the screen. “Going home together, last person you talk to before you go to sleep, first person you talk to when you wake up in the morning, knowing the little things like each other’s coffee orders, having keys to each other’s places-“

“We don’t have that! Ha!” Stiles crows triumphantly.

Scott only gives him a look. “No, you just leave your windows open for each other so you can come and go whenever you please.”

Stiles slouches in his seat, crossing his arms. Whatever.

“The last reason,” Scott says softly. “I’ve never seen my best friend this happy in my entire life and I’m pretty sure it has everything to do with his grumpy neighbour who escorts him home, umbrella and all. And my best friend one hundred percent deserves to have someone look at him the way his grumpy neighbour does and if they don’t kiss soon they’re definitely gonna collapse under the weight of their own sexual tension.”

Stiles laughs, definitely does  _not_  wipe a tear from his eye and says, “Thanks, buddy.”

“Sooo?” Scott says expectantly.

“So…you’re right,” Stiles admits in defeat but then the words actually sink in. “Holy shit, Scott, you’re  _right_. I love him. Oh fuck I love him. I didn’t know I  _loved_  him”

Scott has the actual audacity to laugh. “Stiles, calm down.”

“Calm down? You just make me realise I’m in love with Derek and you want me to calm down?!” Stiles demands. “Oh my god I have to tell him. I have to go- I have to tell him.”

Stiles scrambles off the couch, dashing to the window and ignoring Scott’s laughter. He climbs quickly across the fire escapes, almost braining himself by slipping on the wet metal and banging his lip off the railing but he doesn’t care He so doesn’t care. He needs to talk to Derek.

He wrenches Derek’s window open and basically falls through. When he rights himself again Derek’s staring at him, fork paused halfway to his mouth. “Stiles?” he says uncertainly.

“I love you,” Stiles blurts and then claps a hand over his mouth – which really hurts, he’s pretty sure he’s bleeding. “Shit I was meant to say it with more finesse than that. I- you make me- we’re- oh fuck. I just love you okay,” he sighs, shoulders slumping.

“I-“ Derek freezes for a moment like he’s trying to process what he just heard and then very carefully put his fork down and sets his plate on the coffee table. When he looks back at Stiles he has the brightest smile on his face and just says, “Come here.”

“Oh thank god,” Stiles sighs in relief and more or less tumbles onto the couch and into Derek, kissing him for all he’s worth. Except- Stiles’ mouth really  _hurts_  and he can definitely taste blood. Shit, is he bleeding into Derek’s  _mouth_?

Derek pulls back, looking confused and a little hurt. “Are you not- is this not what you wanted?”

“No!  _No!”_  Stiles latches onto Derek before he can move further away. “It’s just um- I kind of ran over here and well, it’s raining outside so I slipped and…I think my mouth’s bleeding?”

Derek just stares at him in disbelief. “Oh my god,” he says eventually before standing up and walking out of the room. _Why is he walking out of the room?_

“Where are you going?” Stiles hates how small his voice sounds but he’s so afraid he’s just completely ruined this and it hasn’t even begun.

“I’m just getting my first aid kit,” Derek calls reassuringly, coming back into the room with a small green box in his hand.

“Oh,” Stiles mumbles, feeling his face heat up.

Derek sits down again, opening the box on the coffee table and taking out an antiseptic wipe. He carefully holds Stiles’ chin between in his hand and brings the wipe up to clean the cut on Stiles’ lip. He looks so  _concerned_ , it’s adorable and fuck Stiles is in love with him. He can hardly breathe, like wow he almost feels like he’s about to start hyperventilating just looking at Derek’s face.

Derek must notice because he suddenly looks really worried. “Are you okay? Are you about to have a panic attack? Because I can-“

“No, no, can you just…kiss me again?” Stiles asks sheepishly.

Derek’s expression melts and Stiles needs to kiss him right now. He tries to lunge forward but Derek is still holding his chin. “Easy,” he admonishes gently, kissing Stiles’ forehead before leaning forward and pressing his lips carefully to Stiles’, trying to avoid his cut.

It feels way too overwhelming having Derek hold him like this, Stiles is gonna do something stupid like cry if he doesn’t stop thinking about his emotions. So the chasteness of the kiss doesn’t last very long, as Stiles begins to push into Derek’s space, nipping at Derek’s lip and sliding his hands over Derek’s shoulders.

“Stiles, your lip,” Derek chides against his mouth but he doesn’t stop either.

“Don’t care,” Stiles mumbles, deepening the kiss and hitching a leg up in an attempt to straddle Derek’s hips.

“But-“

Stiles pulls back with a huff, tipping their foreheads together and cupping Derek’s face. “Derek. I don’t. Care. Now are we gonna consummate this relationship or not?”

Derek actually groans, slumping back against the couch cushions. “Not if you say shit like that.”

“Whatever. You still wanna kiss me,” Stiles says knowingly.

In a feat that should literally be impossible, Derek surges forward, wrapping one arm around Stiles’ waist, turning them sideways and flipping them so Stiles ends up lying on his back on the couch, smug smirk thoroughly wiped off his face, with Derek hovering over him. “Maybe I do,” Derek allows.

“Y’know, I like this angle better,” Stiles comments nonchalantly.

“Me too,” Derek grins before diving back in.

*

***Epilogue***

Stiles stumbles back in through his window the next morning, Derek following behind him carrying the box of croissants they bought Scott as a thank you for getting their heads out of their asses, and feeling positively giddy. Scott’s gonna be so happy for him.

Speaking of- Scott’s sitting on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees and a grave expression on his face.

“Scott…?” Stiles says warily.

“I almost  _filmed amateur porn of you and Derek!!!_ ” he screeches, looking horrified.

Stiles gapes at him in disbelief then turns around to see Derek still only halfway through the window.

“Y’know what? I’ll come back later,” Derek decides, vaulting across the balconies before Stiles can even say anything.

He whirls back around to Scott, eyes wide. “ _What the hell?”_

“Allison wanted pictures but they were too blurry! So she told me take a video but then you two started-“ Scott cringes, like he’s reliving it.

“Oh my god, Scott.”

“I’m  _sorry!”_ Scott huffs. “But it’s not my fault.”

“How the hell is it not your fault?!” Stiles demands.

“I just think you should have a little self-control,” Scott grumbles. “Or at least move to his bedroom, Stiles. Jesus you know I can see perfectly well into his apartment from here.”

“Scott I swear to god-“

*

Derek really wishes he’d remembered to close the window when he ran back home. Because now he’s sitting here listening to Stiles yell at Scott about how they can have sex wherever they want to and how good Derek is at it. And y’know, while it’s great to have confirmation that you pleased someone with your sexual endeavours he really doesn’t need to here Stiles yell it for the entire world to here.

So here he is, sitting on his couch, steadfastly staring at his TV that’s not even on, holding a box of croissants while he blushes furiously and tries to tune out the conversation floating through the window.

*

Stiles sits down on the couch with a sigh, burying his head in his hands. “Oh my god Derek’s probably so freaked out. He’s gonna run away and never come back.”

“Dude, relax. Derek totally loves you, he said so, right?” Scott asks encouragingly.

“This relationship is doomed,” Stiles wails dramatically. Derek probably hates him, he’s probably halfway to his sister’s place right now to get away from him, he probably-

Stiles’ phone starts buzzing in his pocket and takes it out to see a text from Derek. Oh god, it’s probably a break up text.

“We’re not doomed,” is all it says.

Stiles races to the window then, sees Derek already looking over at him, smiling shyly and wow how is Derek even real? Stiles feels like he’s in a daze just looking at him. That is, until he hears a camera flash go off. He whips his head to the side and sees Scott with his hands behind his back, an innocent expression on his face.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Stiles says, standing up.

“It was all for the sake of true love!” Scott yells and immediately runs away. Stiles considers chasing after him but then he looks out the window again and sees Derek waiting. Y’know what, Stiles can just tackle him later, he and Derek have a morning-after glow they’re supposed to be basking in.

**Author's Note:**

> lol you probably won't appreciate the full gravity of that epilogue unless you read the original post this fic came from but welp, I hope you liked it! :P As always you can find me on tumblr at [ allyasavedtheday](http://allyasavedtheday.tumblr.com/) :)


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